Diane's Tale
by frodoschick
Summary: Romeo and Juliet are dead. There's no arguement about that. But what about the ones left behind? Diane Capulet is a cousin of Juliet. It is her time to tell the story from her point of view. Rated T for language and drug abuse.


This is the story of a back-round character that has always been passed over because no-body never really knew that she existed. But now is her time to shine, now it is time for her story to be heard. This is the story of Diane Capulet.

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Disclaimer-I do not own "After Juliet" or "Romeo and Juliet". Those are not mine nor do I claim them. But Diane is mine. MINE!!

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Dedication goes to my director, Mr. Anderson! Thank you for the inspiration! As you said once...

_"A Capulet is nothing without their weapons..."_

_FYI- In my story, this takes place now. It is set in New York, Chicago, L.A, where-ever you see fit.  
Montagues wear red and black. Capulets wear green and blue.  
Romeo and Juliet have lived and died. This is the story  
Of those left behind, as told from a backround character that nobody really pays attention to._

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It was a very dark night. Not even the moon had the courage to shine in the gloom. Cars rumbled overhead, the highway almost empty. It was one of those nights that you know that you will run into trouble the secnd you step outside of your territory. Trouble, such as Diane Capulet found.

She crouched near the ground, behind a few sparse bushes, her pipe clenched tightly in her right hand, her customized garden stake sharpened to a dangerous point in her left. Her eyes fluttered around, desperately trying to find the enemies' whereabouts. A twig snap in one direction, a tiny sneeze in another. She was utterly surrounded. What to do, but fight? What a good night to do it, too. No moon...no stars. Nothing to betray her presense.

Footsteps approached slowly, insecurely. She realized that her reputation preceded her. She cracked her neck in anticipation, the tips of her braids tickling her neck. She shook her kerchief, making it a little looser. Sometimes when it flew off in battle, the boys got scared. She smield wickedly at the memory. The footsteps grew closer. She adjusted her skirts and position for a quick leap. The footsteps slowed...and stopped not four feet from her. She tensed up...and JUMPED!

With a wild war cry, she swung her pipe at the Montague's head. He cussed, quickly bringing his own pipe up. Hers sped down his, knocking into his shoulder so hard that he gasped. Unfortunately, he didn't drop his pipe. She landed on her ass on the other side of him, swinging her stake at his leg, catching the material of his camouflage jeans.

It ripped and he cussed even louder than before. She gave a quick bark of satisfaction and rolled away from the pipes and baseball bats that rained down where her head had been a moment before.

"Olly olly oxen free!!" she bellowed, hoping that her comrades were nearby. With that, she swung her own pipe, catching an assailant in the knee. He went down with a grunt of pain. Lucky her, she had gotten the guy with the bum knee. She quickly scrambled to her feet while they surrounded their buddy, trying to help him to his feet.

"Who's next?!" she demanded, pipe and stake held high. One of the boys, a dirty red baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, came at her with a broken bottle. She snorted, swinging her pipe like a homerun champion. He went down without even a sound, the bottle breaking into numerous pieces on the asphalt. She wearily weaved back and forth, eager to send more of them into the dark.

"Olly olly oxen free!" came an answering bellow from the other side of the underpass. She grinned with wicked satisfaction. The Montagues looked at each other, then scrambled, trying to get their fallen comrades and then ran as ten more Capulets dashed to Diane's side. She stood at the foreground, yelling dire threats with the rest of them. When the last Montague ran out of sight around the corner, she laughed.

The rest of the Capulets laughed with her. That's when she heard the moan. She looked about. Right behind the sparse bushes where she had taken refuge, was the red-capped Montague boy. He was lying there, still groggy from her homerun. Obviously one of his comrades had dragged him there in an attempt to hide him. She smirked and walked up to him.

"Hey, you alright?" she asked, a devious smirk playing on her lips. He didn't answer, just spat. She slapped him. "Don't do that. Didn't your ma teach you 'tis rank bad manners to spit? No wait...you must learn from her." The Montague just glared. "What? Cat got your tongue?" He still didn't answer. "I suppose it doesn't matter if you talk to me, just as long as you scream."

And with that, she grabbed his face and carved three parallel lines of the same size in his right cheek with her garden stake. Her hopes were met. He did scream and he continued screaming even as they walked away.

"Montagues." spat Diane, smoothing out her star-studded top skirt. She stuck her garden stake (blood still on it) into it's loop on her belt and swung her pipe over her shoulder.

"Yeah, all momma's boys." laughed Richard, a Capulet boy. His weapon was a carved table leg. He liked seeing how hard he had to swing it in order to leave an impression on his opponents face. Diane laughed as everyone agreed wholeheartedly. She looked up at the dark sky. Soon they would be back in their territory and back under their overpass. She couldn't wait. Life was good.

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How could life had changed so drastically? One week, she was as happy as she could have ever hoped, the next...death. But it wasn't supposed to happen! She was supposed to be a bridesmaid, not a damn funeral bearer! That bitch Juliet...why did she have to go fall in love with a damn Montague?! Then go and stab herself cause the ass was dead?! He poisoned himself because he thought that she was dead.

Hell, everyone thought that she had been dead. They even had a funeral the day before they found Juliet bleeding in that tomb. Then she was really dead and gone. So...so what? It wasn't like she was close friends with Juliet. She had been one of the upper Capulets. It didn't effect her life. She could still fight and have fun. What did it matter if Juliet was dead?

She sat outside the graveyard, dressed in black, smoking her cigarette. She had even given up her trademark wine-cork necklace for a black leather strap with a dagger hanging from it. (She had shop-lifted it from some rich bitch's bag.) She couldn't stand being in there, all that crying and all that oppression. Some footsteps sounded to her right. She didn't look up. Probably just some late mourners or something. The next thing she knew, the cigarette was jerked out of her hand and smashed beneath a black and brown boot.

"Hey, who the hell-?!" she started, leaping to her feet. Instantly, she reversed directions. "Oh, Prince. How lovely to see you." She managed to say while she jerked her head in a respectful bow.

"Diane. What has been said to you about smoking?" he asked, his arms folded over his chest and his (illegally gotten) college letter-man jacket with the gold and purple.

"That's it's bad for my health, costs too much and no boy will want to kiss a tobacco mouth." She recited, looking up at the sky rather than at the Prince. Little did he know, but she had a good four or five left in her bra, plus the lighter. Thank God for big bras that fit her tiny frame! The Prince looked rather surprised.

"Well, alright then. I came to pay my condolences to Mr. and Mrs. Capulet. Where are they?"

"In the cemetery, next to the vault. I'll show you the way sir." She opened the gate and led him through, his lackeys staying outside. Graveyards probably spooked them. Yeah, now she was the one escorting the "Prince" of their realm of streets. He'd been here longer than anyone and it was he who made the rules and kept the peace. She was so nervous with him walking behind her, it was almost a relief to reach the vault. That's when Mr. and Mrs. Capulet basically fell on him, sobbing and asking if justice was being done to the Montagues (who in their minds, had killed Juliet).

While all this was going on, Diane spotted Rosaline Capulet. She wasn't with the rest of the mourners. She was a bit away, standing next to another vault. Diane crept a bit closer. She couldn't make out the inscription. Damn, she needed glasses. Hard to steal those. Rosaline suddenly turned. Diane was pulling a cigarette out of her bra.

"What?" she demanded, looking like she had snuck away just to get her nic fix. _Sly move! Now she can't suspect you!_

"Yeah, I understand." said Rosaline, reaching into a pocket and pulling out the apothecary's familiar pill bottle. She opened it and popped one of the familiar blue tablets.

"Got a green one?" asked Diane, pulling the green lighter from her skirt's pocket. She pulled up the V-necked shirt. She hated her boobs being exposed. It made boys go nuts, and she hated boys.

"Nope." said Rosaline, tucking the bottle away. "Used 'em up last week."

"Damn. Those are the best." Diane muttered, lighting her cigarette and feeling a sense of calm enter her system on that first drag. She sighed, the smoke leaving her. She noticed that Rosaline was walking away. She shrugged. Whatever. She turned and watched as the rest of the Capulet girls (cousins of Juliet) spread the flowers that were supposed to be at the wedding around the tomb. All the cousins were there...Alice, Rhona, Bianca, Helena. Nurse was sobbing so hard...a lump formed in Diane's throat that almost blocked the smoke.

"Diane!" came a stern voice from behind her. _Crap..._

_

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_What the hell was with the Prince?! Why the hell was he putting that priest, Angelica (Juliet's nurse), and that Peter boy on trial?! And the damn Apothecary? So what if that Apothecary sold Romeo the poison when he was underage? He sold everyone cheap fixes. Hell, she got her cigs there for a least seventy percent less than a 7-11.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked Gianni, a Capulet boy who was a legend in his own right. His brown skin glistened in the summer heat. Lorenzo, his shadow, lay sprawled in the car that no-body used in the vacant lot that was part of Capulet territory.

"It's a court. The Prince called a bloody court."

"Why?" demanded Diane, glaring at him.

"It's basically a murder trial."

"A murder trial?!"

"Yes. He said he will put to justice the ones that killed Romeo and Juliet." There was a small pause. The heat was oppressive.

"Why is Juliet's name last?"

"I don't know!" said Gianni, throwing a clod of dirt at her. Diane turned away and stared at the sky.

"_Clouds coming.  
Rain on it's way.  
Thunder.  
Close.  
August.  
Muggy.  
Clouds coming_." said Diane, looking at the dark clouds as thunder sounded in the distance.

"What the hell was that?" asked Gianni, looking at her funny. She glared at him.

"Poetry. Why?"

"That's some bad bangin' poetry."

"Oh, like you could do better!" she snapped, walking away. Her braids thumped against her neck as the wind started to blow. But Lorenzo and Gianni, being sheltered, couldn't feel it.

"Do you feel a breeze?" asked Gianni.

"Nah. You?"

"Nah."

"Earth's holding it's breath."

"What?"

"Feels like."

"Feels like the earth is holding it's breath?" Diane shook her head as the fresh argument faded when she turned a corner. As she did, she saw Rosaline...with Benvolio Montague. In Capulet territory! Why wasn't she killing him?! They were actually sitting together underneath one of _their_ underpasses, talking. Suddenly, thunder rolled and Diane ran for cover. She hated rain.

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Okay, that's enough for now. Review please!!


End file.
